Toto, I don't think we're in Texas anymore!

Oh for goddess's sake. Am I ever exhausted. All I can do for today is tell you about the trip home and then catch up later with the rest of the story.

We got back home okay, barely. All the way home, for about 11 hours, it rained. No, maybe that's too mild a word, let's beef it up a tad. The heavens opened up in a torrential downburst that kept us from seeing five feet ahead of us, with accompanying violent winds that threatened to blow us off the freeway if we attempted to go over 55 mph.

Let me set it up for you. Paint you a mental picture, so to speak.

My husband heads our happy family convoy in the hugest Budget truck I've ever seen, holding all our worldly possessions except the lawn mower, Rainy, and some sandwiches, and dragging Erik's car behind. Erik fills in the middle, valiantly maneuvering my little Dodge Neon--with the sandwiches--through the beating storm. I think he truly became a man that day. Come to think of it, so did I.

Bringing up the rear, the cat and the lawn mower in my husband's mid-size Dodge Ram, was I. I seriously contemplated joining some form of organized religion as I was buffeted with gravel, rain and actual hail, and fought to stay on the road. Dodge trucks may be Ram tough, but they are also in equal measure Elephant aerodynamic. Evidently Chrysler does not consider the concept of reduction of wind resistance one of their exacting specifications when building a pickup truck, although they do make darn tough windshields. In short, EVERYTHING flying through the air hit that windshield. There were several times I winced when something hit it and thought, okay, there it goes, but, no, it actually turned out fine. The darn thing was even shinier when we got home. Go Dodge.

Right outside of wacko Waco, where nobody especially thought it important to drive with caution in a wild storm, we realized that yes, it can always get worse. The road suddenly narrowed from four lanes to two. Erik brushed an orange road cone with the Neon, frightening him. Headlights came at us. Signs appeared, warning us to slow down or be fined. Go ahead, fine us. If you can find us, I thought, by this point hellbent for leather. But soon there was no question of slowing down. They'd built one of those lovely concrete walls o' death between the two rushing lanes of traffic, and semis bore down upon us from every direction, drenching us with road water and pelting us with loose asphalt. I felt pain in my hands, and realized I was white-knuckling the steering wheel. I tried using humor to break the stress, and grabbed my walkie talkie. (Walkie talkies are essential for convoy travel.) I pushed the button, the talkie squawked, and I asked that age-old question, "Could this suck a little more?"

Now, bear in mind, we're in a really bad rain storm here. The radio at the last gas station had warned of the possibility of tornadoes. There's traffic noise, and the moving truck runs loud anyway, rumbling and rattling as strong as the thunder. Terry is also deaf in one ear. Erik, warmly ensconced in my comfy little Neon, protected from the worst by his dad ahead of him creating a giant wind break with the big truck, chuckles and replies that he hopes not. Terry, battling the bloody front lines, comes back, "What??!!"

"I said", I say louder this time, "could this suck any more."

"What, now?"

"COULD THIS SUCK A LITTLE MORE!"

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you, do you need to pull over? Is something wrong?" Now look what you've done, I think, you've worried him.

Erik pipes in, thinking that since he's closer, Dad will hear him better. "She said, could this suck a little more." But, road noise is road noise, and a loud truck is a loud truck, and a deaf man is a deaf man.

"What??!!"

I give up. Just get us home, I pray for the 100th time to nobody and everybody in particular. "I SAID", I shout into the talkie, while Rainy shifts in his carrier, ears twitching, "THIS....IS...BAD!!"

"Yeah," my husband, the master of the understatement replies, "but it could be worse."

"How?" Erik wants to know.

"It could be hailing", Terry replies. Something hits my windshield. I couldn't see well enough to tell if it was hail or just a rock. A minute later, I know for sure. For pete's freaking sake, it's hailing.

So much for a touch of humor.

We left Killeen at 1:30 pm and got home at 12:30 am the next morning. It was almost dry for about a half hour while we drove through Wichita and then boom! It hit us again. It continued to hit us, in fact, all the way home. I still have bruises.

Terry is an amazing driver, don't get me wrong. It was amazing how deeply the tires of the moving truck sunk into the mud of our front yard when he attempted to pull it up into the driveway after our harrowing trip, at 12:30 in the morning. Just one more thing to add to our list of things to do.

Well, let me wrap it up.

We made it home alive, and for that, I'm eternally grateful. And as much as I liked the big state of Texas, I'm glad to be home in little ol' Kansas.

I don't want to drive that particular piece of freeway ever again.

WOW!

What a difference a few days makes! My hubby lost his job, and we're moving back home to Kansas. Whoopeeee!!

Don't get me wrong. I'm not happy he lost his job, but I can't wait to get back home! I like the people here in Killeen, but I didn't realize how homesick I was until there was a chance for us to go back home. Things will be difficult, and after the move I might not post for a while because I'll be looking for a job and trying to get unpacked, etc. There has been so many changes to our family in the past few years, I'm hoping things settle down for a while so I can catch my breath. I'm hoping to post a couple of times before we leave, to journal the last few days before we're outta here. We're set to move the 30th of March.

Fall Forward, Spring Back

I have to remind myself lately that life
is more than piling dishes, paying bills, doing duties.
I turn around, I blink, I stare too long
at that clown-shaped cloud,
and the years have flown, my little girl grown,
my baby boy, a stubble-chinned youth, and I
can’t remember what it was like to see the future
without first counting the mistakes
of my past, as if counting them
makes them count today.
Squinting with miasmic eyes, I attempt to scan the sky,
to assume some form of foresight.
I can just make out the beginning of the end, and I realize
on that far horizon could reside my fate.
Rather I’ll watch rapt as the bozo cloud
metamorphoses into a bunny rabbit,
pay close attention
to that floating changing opening of the heavens
that allows the sun to momentarily blind me--
that illuminates my way.

--Nan Whetstone

Happy Birthday to Me!!

Yes, it's that time again. I'm 43 today. My husband asked me this morning if I felt old. I said no, just more tired.

I had quite the day yesterday. I lost both my cable and my telephone at the same time, for some unknown reasons (no, the bills were paid!) With my cell phone, I didn't miss the phone that much, except that I couldn't get online, but man, did I miss TV! There wasn't even anything on, it being a Sunday afternoon, but just the fact that I couldn't channel surf about made me insane!

Since my hubby and I both have to work today, we celebrated my b-day yesterday. Erik made me a cake and when Terry got home from work we all went to my favorite Mexican restaurant. Terry and I had fajitas and Erik had chicken enchiladas and a serious game of moon-eyes with the cute little waitress. Then we went home and ate birthday cake and watched Blazing Saddles, one of my favorite movies of all time.

It might sound boring to you, but, more importantly, did I have fun? Is Bismarck a hewwing?

So, I must sally forth into the evening and work tonight. It's the first time I've EVER worked on my birthday in my entire LIFE! Can you believe that? Usually, come hell or high water I take the day off, but with all the changes going on in my life I just plain forgot my birthday was coming up in time to put in for the day off. So sally forth, I must. I must, I must.

Enough esoteric Blazing Saddles references. If you haven't ever seen the movie and have no idea what I'm talking about, for god's sake go out and rent the damn movie! It's hilarious! What have you been doing with your time, anyway? Nuf'm, eh?

Anyhoo, here's a pic I find wicked cute.

Yes, Rainy really sleeps this way.





Today's poem:

Wild Oats In The Slow-Cooker

When I mixed my future,
I was not yet old enough
to stir.
I had not paid for my meal.
My emotions were
not yet ripe,
my decision-making abilities
unseasoned.
I could not taste the sweetness of life,
nor the bitterness of living that life.
I did not feel the grit between my teeth--
my sauciness did not relieve the dry texture.
My world was bland when I did what I did,
and in my search for spice,
I lost the recipe I was taught to follow.
Now, I must eat my hasty words.
If the concoction does not taste good to me,
then I have learned
never to challenge fate again.

--Nan Whetstone

Now, go do that voodoo that you do so well!!!

Friends Coming Out of the Woodwork!

It's so cool, I was just feeling like all old my friends had forgotten me and then I hear from a whole bunch of them. I finally got in touch with Faith, which was awesome. I wrote to Betty, and she told me that my friend Susan had changed her e-mail account and wanted to hear from me, so I wrote an e-mail to her also. Susan is really cool. She's such a talented poet and so wise. I'm really lucky to have friends like her. They keep me from giving up on myself, something I have trouble with sometimes.

Sometimes it hits me how many truly talented people I know. It's really amazing. Faith is a prolific author and editor, Susan an accomplished poet and artist. Jeskan is only a young man and such a promising musician. My own daughter Jenessa is an incredible artist as well. Terry can run any kind of machine, fly planes and jets, drive any vehicle and fix it too. My mom is also an artist and I believe she can do anything, she's the original super-woman. I'm just happy to know all of them. They are all such an inspiration to me. They encourage me to do the things I like to do, as well as I possibly can.

As long as I'm on the subject of things I like to do, here's a picture of one of my necklaces. It's made of Flourite chips and silver beads. It's adjustable to any length, and has a removable Aventurine Kwan-Yin pendant.

Kwan-Yin is the Buddhist goddess of mercy. She protects artisans as well as women and children. I consider her my "personal" goddess. Every woman should have her own "personal" goddess, one she identifies with, to act as a sort of role model. She need not interfere with whatever religion you follow, she is just there as a symbol of female strength. I am not a Buddhist, I'm not really religious in any way. However, Kwan-Yin is a great source of personal power and security for me. I like to think of her as a "spirit guide".

And here's my poem for today.

Perspective

I string things together
pretty, small things
that in my hands
somehow become bigger.

Dreams that I meant to live
slowly gather dust--
as days go by
their importance dwindles.

--Nan Whetstone

Feel good, but feel bad

Feel like crap today, hurt all over and I have to work 4:15-8:15. Tired deep down. I never felt this way until I hit 40. It's hard to believe how much energy I used to have. Wish I'd appreciated it more.

My fantasies play heavy in my head at times like this. I want my own business, a small shop/gallery for craftspeople to show their work and sell it, and in addition to my own work, maybe sell some hard-to-find beading components. I resent having to be there when they want me to, having to do what they want, the way they want it done. If things were my way, I tell myself, I'd be happier. Would I? Who knows. But I'd like the chance to find out. Wouldn't we all like to realize our dreams? Even if they didn't work out the way we'd thought they would, at least we tried.

On the other hand, there's four fingers and a thumb. No, seriously, though, I am glad that I started this blog and that I've made attempts to pull my head out of my ass and remember the people who bring me joy in life, my friends and family. Keeping in touch with my daughter Jenessa and my mom back home in Kansas keeps me grounded in what's really important. Erik, my good, good son, keeps me laughing and always loves me, no matter how much of a dork I am. And Terry, my husband and best friend, just being there, gives me something constant I can depend on. Getting back in touch with old friends, Betty-my "mom away from mom" at my old job and Faith, my old writing buddy/pen pal/good friend, help me to realize that there are other lives out there going on without me, but happier with me.

Then, there will be new friends I'll make, like Carol, who is so easygoing and makes me laugh, and who I suspect will be the one I can tell anything to. And new family, like Caleb, Jenessa's fiance, who is a drama king and not afraid to show it, I am so glad you came into my daughter's life, and I wish you both the best life ever.

I guess I'm being so...I don't know...deep...because I'm facing my 43rd birthday in a week, then my 24th wedding anniversary in April, then Jenessa's 23rd birthday in June. It's funny, but thinking about my daughter's age makes me feel older than thinking about my own, but talking to her makes me feel young again. She has a way of bringing your truest feelings from you, without even trying. Suddenly, everything that's all mixed up inside you, making you feel stupid and unsure of yourself, is all as clear as her gold-green eyes. Talk to anyone who knows her, they'll back me up.

And on that note:


Still Life

Selling the soul starts here.
From my couch before the screen I cower
from humanity from the likes of you, from the soft glow
I wrench myself
free to feed on fruits and nuts and meats and vegetation
salted, seeded, peeled, chopped, circumcised.
Weeping solemn righteous empathy into my peach tea,
sweetened with Splenda,
I learn that one out of ten doctors who play doctors
on TV do not recommend this.

--Nan Whetstone

So, What Now?

Honestly, I've never really done this before. Hoping that's not automatically, transparently obvious. I'm assuming everyone will automatically crowd around to hear the amazing tales of my day to day life, but then again, do you really have time for this?

I'll start by introducing myself. I'm Nancy Whetstone, 42, married, two grown kids. I recently transplanted to Texas from Kansas. I used to write a lot, I was even published, but now I only dabble a little with a poem or two every now and then. My muse must be exhausted.

I work part-time in a library and am not officially a librarian, that's just easier to type than Library Technician. I've done library work for over 8 years. My husband Terry is a pilot and works as a flight instructor. Both of us are disgustingly unappreciative of our jobs. Eh...it's a living.

I make custom jewelry, not costume jewelry. What's the difference, you might ask? Costumes help you pretend you're someone you're not. Custom means that your style is you, and you are your style. Confused? Good. That's how I like ya.

I intend to show several pieces of my jewelry on this blog and also urge you if you're in the area to visit Sisters of the Earth and Sea in Harker Heights, TX. There, you'll find my work for sale and some nice girls who will help you get in touch with me if you want something made just for you.

I'm also planning to subject you to some of my poetry, plus those annoying lists everyone wants you to read. I love lists, I write them all the time. Usually they look like this:

Potatoes
Soy Milk
Cereal
Go to post office

...but here, they'll be better than that, I promise! I love Heavy Metal music (Korn ROCKS!!!), old-school dance music (all right, disco), and true crime books. I'm seriously into What Not To Wear and Project Runway, and am currently pining away for the new P.R. season to start. However, do not misconstrue this to mean that I'm ultimately stylish. I tend to rebel as much as I possibly can. It's all I got.

I also have to say something about my cat Rainy every now and then, and may talk ad nauseum about my kids, Jenessa, 22, and Erik, 18. You just have to know 'em to love 'em. Before you knock it, try it, I say.

And now, a poem...

POINT OF EXHAUSTION

You and I
have so much in common--
things not evident
to the casual observer.
You drive through life fast,
in control, smoke and dust
billowing behind you.
I sit still inside,
just trying hard to breathe.
But
we both concentrate
on our favorite
prepositional phrases.
Take it in, push it out.
Get past it, make it through.

--Nan Whetstone